Chapter 8

“To give the blood its natural spring and play.”1

1SOUTHEY.

Mr. Coleridge says (in his Table Talk) “that the fondness for dancing in English women is the reaction of their reserved manners: it is the only way in which they can throw themselves forth in natural liberty.” But the women are not more fond of it in this country, than they are in France and Spain. There can be no healthier pastime for them, (as certainly there is none so exhilarating, and exercise unless it be exhilarating is rarely healthful)—provided,—and upon this the Doctor always insisted,—provided it be neither carried on in hot rooms, nor prolonged to late hours. They order these things, he used to say, better in France; they order them better indeed anywhere than in England, and there was a time when they were ordered better among ourselves.

“The youth of this city,” says the honest old chronicler and historian of the metropolis his native place, “used on holidays, after evening prayers, to exercise their basters and bucklers, at their master's doors; and the maidens, one of them playing on a timbrel, to dance for garlands hanged athwart the streets, which open pastimes in my youth, being now suppressed, worser practises within doors are to be feared.”

Every one who is conversant with the Middle Ages, and with the literature of the reigns of Elizabeth, James and Charles I. must have perceived in how much kindlier relations the different classes of society existed toward each other in those days than they have since done. The very word independence had hardly found a place in the English language, or was known only as denoting a mischievous heresy. It is indeed, as one of our most thoughtful contemporaries has well said, an “unscriptural word,”—and “when applied to man, it directly contradicts the first and supreme laws of our nature; the very essence of which is universal dependence upon God, and universal interdependence on one another.”

The Great Rebellion dislocated the relations which had for some centuries thus happily subsisted; and the money getting system which has long been the moving principle of British society, has, aided by other injurious influences, effectually prevented the recovery which time, and the sense of mutual interest, and mutual duty, might otherwise have brought about. It was one characteristic of those old times, which in this respect deserve to be called good, that the different classes participated in the enjoyments of each other. There were the religious spectacles, which, instead of being reformed and rendered eminently useful as they might have been, were destroyed by the brutal spirit of puritanism. There were the Church festivals, till that same odious spirit endeavoured to separate, and has gone far toward separating, all festivity from religion. There were tournaments and city pageants at which all ranks were brought together: they are now brought together only upon the race-course. Christmas Mummers have long ceased to be heard of. The Morris dancers have all but disappeared even in the remotest parts of the kingdom. I know not whether a May-pole is now to be seen. What between manufactures and methodism England is no longer the merry England which it was once a happiness and an honour to call our country. Akenside's words “To the Country Gentlemen of England,” may be well remembered.

And yet full oft your anxious tongues complainThat lawless tumult prompts the rustic throng;That the rude Village-inmates now disdainThose homely ties which rul'd their fathers long.Alas, your fathers did by other artsDraw those kind ties around their simple hearts.And led in other paths their ductile will;By succour, faithful counsel, courteous cheer,Won them their ancient manners to revere,To prize their countries peace and heaven's due rites fulfil.

My friend saw enough of this change in its progress to excite in him many melancholy forebodings in the latter part of his life. He knew how much local attachment was strengthened by the recollection of youthful sports and old customs; and he well understood how little men can be expected to love their country, who have no particular affection for any part of it. Holidays he knew attached people to the Church, which enjoined their observance; but he very much doubted whether Sunday Schools would have the same effect.

In Beaumont and Fletcher's Play of the Prophetess, the countrymen discourse concerning the abdicated Emperor who has come to reside among them. One says to the other,

Do you think this great man will continue here?

the answer is

Continue here? what else? he has bought the great farm;A great man2with a great inheritanceAnd all the ground about it, all the woods tooAnd stock'd it like an Emperor. Now all our sports againAnd all our merry gambols, our May Ladies,Our evening dances on the green, our songs,Our holiday good cheer; our bagpipes now, boys,Shall make the wanton lasses skip again,Our sheep-shearings and all our knacks.

2Southey has inserted a query here. “Qy Manor or Mansion.” It is usually printed as in the text.—See Act v. Sc. iii.

It is said however in theCortegiano, che non saria conveniente che un gentilhuomo andasse ad honorare con la persona sua una festa di contado, dove i spettatori, et i compagni fussero gente ignobile.What follows is curious to the history of manners.Disse allhor' il S. Gasparo Pallavicino, nel paese nostro di Lombardia non s'hanno queste rispetti: anzi molti gentil'huomini giovani trovansi, che le feste ballano tuttol' di nel Sole co i villani, et con esti giocano a lanciar la barra, lottare, correre et saltare; et io non credo che sia male, perche ivi non si fa paragone della nobiltà, ma della forza, e destrezza, nelle quai cose spesso gli huomini di villa non vaglion meno che i nobili; et par che que quella domestichezza habbia in se una certa liberalità amabile.—An objection is made to this;Quel ballar nel Sole, rispose M. Federico, a me non piace per modo alcuno; ne so che guadagno vi si trovi. Ma chi vuol pur lottar, correr et saltar co i villani, dee (al parer mio) farlo in modo di provarsi, et (come si suol dir) per gentilezza, non per contender con loro, et dee l'huomo esser quasi sicuro di vincere; altramente non vi si metta; perche sta troppo male, et troppo è brutta cosa, et fuor de la dignità vedere un gentilhuomo vinto da un villano, et massimamente alla lotta; però credo io che sia ben astenersi almano in presentia di molti, perche il guadagno nel vincere è pochissimo, et la perdita nell' esse vinto è grandissima.

That is, in the old version of Master Thomas Hoby; “it were not meet that a gentleman should be present in person, and a doer in such a matter in the country, where the lookers-on and the doers were of a base sort. Then said the Lord Gasper Pallavicino, in our country of Lombardy these matters are not passed upon; for you shall see there young gentlemen, upon the holydays, come dance all the day long in the sun with them of the country, and pass the time with them in casting the bar, in wrestling, running and leaping. And I believe it is not ill done; for no comparison is there made of nobleness of birth, but of force and slight; in which things many times the men of the country are not a whit inferior to gentlemen: and it seemeth this familiar conversation containeth in it a certain lovely freeness.” “The dancing in the sun,” answered Sir Frederick, “can I in no case away withal; and I cannot see what a man shall gain by it. But whoso will wrestle, run and leap with men of the country, ought, in my judgement, to do it after a sort; to prove himself, and (as they are wont to say) for courtesy, not to try mastery with them. And a man ought (in a manner) to be assured to get the upper hand, else let him not meddle withal; for it is too ill a sight, and too foul a matter, and without estimation, to see a gentleman overcome by a carter, and especially in wrestling. Therefore I believe it is well done to abstain from it, at the leastwise in the presence of many; if he be overcome, his gain is small, and his loss in being overcome very great.”

This translation is remarkable for having a Sonnet, or more correctly speaking, a quatorzain by Sackville prefixed to it, and at the end of the volume a letter of Sir John Cheke's to the translator, curious for its peculiar spelling, and for the opinion expressed in it that our language ought as much as possible to be kept pure and unmixed.

“I have taken sum pain,” he says, “at your request, cheflie in your preface; not in the reading of it, for that was pleasaunt unto me, boath for the roundnes of your saienges and welspeakinges of the saam, but in changing certein wordes which might verie wel be let aloan, but that I am verie curious in mi freendes matters, not to determijn, but to debaat what is best. Whearin I seek not the bestnes haplie bi truth, but bi mijn own phansie and sheo of goodnes.

“I am of this opinion that our own tung shold be written cleane and pure, unmixt and unmangeled with borowing of other tunges; wherein if we take not heed bi tijm, ever borowing and never payeng, she shall be fain to keep her house as bankrupt. For then doth our tung naturallie and praiseablie utter her meaning, when she boroweth no conterfectness of other tunges to attire her self withall, but useth plainlie her own with such shift as nature, craft, experiens, and folowing of other excellent doth lead her unto; and if she went at ani tijm (as being unperfight she must) yet let her borow with suche bashfulnes, that it mai appear, that if either the mould of our own tung could serve us to fascion a woord of our own, or if the old denisoned wordes could content and ease this neede, we wold not boldly venture of unknoven wordes. This I say, not for reproof of you, who have scarslie and necessarily used, whear occasion serveth, a strange word so, as it seemeth to grow out of the matter and not to be sought for; but for mijn our defens, who might be counted overstraight a deemer of thinges, if I gave not thys accompt to you, my freend and wijs, of mi marring this your handiwork.

“But I am called awai. I prai you pardon mi shortnes; the rest of my saienges should be but praise and exhortacion in this your doinges, which at moar leisor I shold do better.

From my house in Wood streetthe 16 of July 1557.

Yours assuredJOANCHEEK.”

Sir John Cheke died about two months after the date of this letter: and Hoby's translation was not published till 1561, because “there were certain places in it, which of late years being misliked of some that had the perusing of it, the Author thought it much better to keep it in darkness a while, then to put it in light, imperfect, and in piecemeal, to serve the time.” The book itself had been put in the list of prohibited works, and it was not till 1576 that the Conte Camillo Castiglione, the author's son, obtained permission to amend the obnoxious passages and publish an expurgated edition.

It would have vexed Sir John if he had seen with how little care the printer, and his loving friend Master Hoby observed his system of orthography, in this letter. For he never used the final e unless when it is sounded, which he denoted then by doubling it; he rejected the y, wrote u when it was long, with a long stroke over it, doubled the other vowels when they were long, and threw out all letters that were not pronounced. No better system of the kind has been proposed, and many worse. Little good would have been done by its adoption, and much evil, if the translators of the Bible had been required to proceed upon his principle of using no words but such as were true English of Saxon original. His dislike of the translation for corrupting as he thought the language into vocables of foreign growth, made him begin to translate the New Testament in his own way. The Manuscript in his own hand, as far as it had proceeded, is still preserved at Bene't College,3and it shows that he found it impracticable to observe his own rule. But though as a precisian he would have cramped and impoverished the language, he has been praised for introducing a short and expressive style, avoiding long and intricate periods, and for bringing “fair and graceful writing into vogue;” he wrote an excellent hand himself, and it is said that all the best scholars in those times followed his example, “so that fair writing and good learning seemed to commence together.”

3This has been since printed with a good Glossary by the Rev. James Goodwin, Fellow and Tutor of Corpus Christi Coll. Cambridge, and is very curious. All that remains is the Gospel according to St. Matthew. As an instance of Cheke's Englishisms I may refer to the rendering ofπροσήλυτονin c. xxiij.v.15, byfreschman. Some little of the MS. is lost.—See Preface, p. 10.

O Soul of Sir John Cheke, thou wouldst have led me out of my way, if that had been possible,—if my ubiety did not so nearly resemble ubiquity, that in Anywhereness and Everywhereness I know where I am, and can never be lost till I get out of Whereness itself into Nowhere.

MASTER THOMAS MACE, AND THE TWO HISTORIANS OF HIS SCIENCE, SIR JOHN HAWKINS AND DR. BURNEY. SOME ACCOUNT OF THE OLD LUTANIST AND OF HIS “MUSIC'S MONUMENT.”

This Man of Music hath more in his headThan mere crotchets.SIRW. DAVENANT.

Thou wast informed, gentle Reader, in the third Volume and at the two hundred and sixth page of this much-hereafter-to-be-esteemed Opus, that aTattle de Moywas a new-fashioned thing in the Year of our Lord 1676. This was on the authority of the good old Lutanist, whom, I then told you, I took leave of but for a while, bethinking me of Pope's well known lines,

But all our praises why should Lords engross?Rise, honest Muse! and sing the MAN OFROSS.

And now gentle reader, seeing that whether with a consciousness of second sight or not, Master Mace, praiseworthy as the Man of Ross, has so clearly typified my Preludes and Voluntaries, my grave Pavines and graver Galliards, my Corantoes and Serabands, my Chichonas, and above all my Tattle-de-Moys, am I not bound in gratitude to revive the memory of Master Mace; or rather to extend it and make him more fully and more generally known than he has been made by the two historians of his science Sir John Hawkins and Dr. Burney. It is to the honour of both these eminent men, who have rendered such good services to that science, and to the literature of their country, that they should have relished the peculiarities of this simple-hearted old lutanist. But it might have been expected from both; for Dr. Burney was as simple-hearted himself, and as earnestly devoted to the art: and Sir John who delighted in Ignoramus and in Izaak Walton, could not fail to have a liking for Thomas Mace.

“Under whom he was educated,” says Sir John, “or by what means he became possessed of so much skill in the science of music, as to be able to furnish out matter for a folio volume, he has no where informed us; nevertheless his book contains so many particulars respecting himself, and so many traits of an original and singular character, that a very good judgement may be formed both of his temper and ability. With regard to the first, he appears to have been an enthusiastic lover of his art; of a very devout and serious turn of mind; and cheerful and good humoured under the infirmities of age, and the pressure of misfortunes. As to the latter his knowledge of music seems to have been confined to the practice of his own instrument; and so much of the principles of the science as enabled him to compose for it; but for his style in writing he certainly never had his fellow.”

This is not strictly just as relating either to his proficiency in music, or his style as an author. Mace says of himself, “having said so much concerning the lute, as also taken so much pains in laying open all the hidden secrets thereof, it may be thought I am so great a lover of it, that I make light esteem of any other instrument besides; which truly I do not; but love the viol in a very high degree; yea close unto the lute; and have done much more, and made very many more good and able proficients upon it, than ever I have done upon the lute. And this I shall presume to say, that if I excel in either, it is most certainly upon the viol. And as to other instruments, I can as truly say, I value every one that is in use, according to its due place; as knowing and often saying, that all God's creatures are good; and all ingenuities done by man, are signs, tokens, and testimonies of the wisdom of God bestowed upon man.”

So also though it is true that Thomas Mace stands distinguished among the writers on Music, yet it could be easy to find many fellows for him as far as regards peculiarity of style. A humourist who should collect odd books might form as numerous a library, as the man of fastidious taste who should confine his collection to such works only as in their respective languages were esteemed classical. “The singularity of his style,” says Sir John, “remarkable for a profusion of epithets and words of his own invention, and tautology without end, is apt to disgust such as attend less to the matter than manner of his book; but in others it has a different effect; as it exhibits, without the least reserve all the particulars of the author's character, which was not less amiable than singular.”—“The vein of humour that runs through it presents a lively portraiture of a good-natured, gossipping old man, virtuous and kind-hearted.”—The anxious “precision with which he constantly delivers himself, is not more remarkable than his eager desire to communicate to others all the knowledge he was possessed of, even to the most hidden secrets.”—“The book breathes throughout a spirit of devotion; and, agreeable to his sentiments of music is a kind of proof that his temper was improved by the exercise of his profession.”—There is no pursuit by which, if it be harmless in itself, a man may not be improved in his moral as well as in his intellectual nature, provided it be followed for its own sake: but most assuredly there is none however intrinsically good, or beneficial to mankind, from which he can desire any moral improvement, if his motive be either worldly ambition, or the love of gain.—Ἀδύνατον ἐκ φαύλης ἀφορμῆς ἐπὶ τὸ τέλος ἐυδραμεῖν.1

1IAMBLICHUS.

To give an account of “Music's Monument,” which Dr. Burney calls a matchless book, not to be forgotten among the curiosities of the seventeenth century! will be to give the character of Thomas Mace himself, for no author ever more compleatly embodied his own spirit in his writings.

It is introduced with an Epistle Dedicatory, which by an easy misrepresentation has been made to appear profane.

To Thee, One-Only-Oneness, I directMy weak desires and works.Thou only art The Able True Protector;Oh be my shield, defender and director,Then sure we shall be safe.Thou know'st, O Searcher of all hearts how I,With right, downright, sincere sincerity,Have longed long to do some little good,(According to the best I understood)With thy rich talent, though by me made poor,For which I grieve, and will do so no more,By thy good Grace assisting, which I doMost humbly beg for. Oh, adjoin it toMy longing ardent soul; and have respectTo this my weak endeavour, and accept,In thy great mercy, both of it and me,Even as we dedicate ourselves to Thee.

An Epistle, in verse, follows “to all Divine Readers, especially those of the Dissenting Ministry, or Clergy, who want not only skill, but good will to this most excelling part of divine service, viz. singing of psalms, hymns and spiritual songs, to the praise of the Almighty, in the public Assemblies of his Saints: and yet more particularly, to all great and high Persons, Supervisors, Masters, or Governors of the Church, (if any such there should be) wanting skill, or good will thereunto.”

He says to those “high men of honour,” that

Example is the thing;There's but one way, which is yourselves to sing.This sure will do it; for when the vulgar seeSuch worthy presidents their leaders be,Who exercise therein and lead the van,They will be brought to't, do they what they can.But otherwise for want of such example,Tis meanly valued, and on it they trample;And by that great defect, so long unsought,Our best Church Music's well-nigh brought to nought.Besides,No robes adorn high persons like to it;No ornaments for pure Divines more fit.That Counsel given by the Apostle PaulDoes certainly extend to Christians all.Colossians the third, the sixteenth verse;(Turn to the place:) that text will thus rehearse,Let the word of Christ dwell in you plenteously,(What follows? Music in its excellency.)Admonishing yourselves, in sweet accord,In singing psalms with grace unto the Lord,Sed sine arte, that cannot be done,Et sine arte, better let alone.

Having thus “fronted this Book with the divine part, and preached his little short sermon” upon the last of St. Paul, he says that his first and chief design in writing this book was only to discover the occult mysteries of the noble lute, and to shew the great worthiness of that too much neglected and abused instrument, and his good will to all the true lovers of it, in making it plain and easy, giving the true reasons why it has been formerly a very hard instrument to play well upon, and also why now it is become so easy and familiarly pleasant. “And I believe,” says he, “that whosoever will but trouble himself to read those reasons,—and join his own reason, with the reasonableness of those reasons, will not be able to find the least reason to contradict those reasons.”

He professed that by his directions “any person, young or old, should be able to perform so much and so well upon it, in so much or so little time, towards a full and satisfactory delight and pleasure, (yea, if it were but only to play common toys, jigs or tunes,) as upon any instrument whatever; yet with this most notable and admirable exception, (for the respectable commendation of the lute,) that they may, besides such ordinary and common contentments, study and practice it all the days of their lives, and yet find new improvements, yea doubtless if they should live unto the age of Methusalem, ten times over; for there is no limitation to its vast bounds and bravery.” It appears that the merit of this book in this respect is not overstated, one of his sons attained to great proficiency on this instrument by studying the book without any assistance from his father; and Sir John Hawkins affirms on his own knowledge that Mr. John Immyns, lutanist to the Chapel Royal, has the like experience of it. “This person who had practised on sundry instruments for many years, and was able to sing his part at sight, at the age of forty took to the lute, and by the help of Mace's book alone, became enabled to play thorough base, and also easy lessons on it; and by practice had rendered the tablature as familiar to him, as the notes of the scale.”

The notation called the tablature is minutely explained in the work. It has not the least relation to the musical character; the six strings of the lute are represented by as many lines, “and the several frets or stops by the letters a, b, c, d, e, f, g, h, y (a preference to i as being more conspicuous) k; the letteraever signifying the open string in all positions.” Many persons have been good performers on the lute, and at the same time totally ignorant of the notes of the Gamut. His printer, he said, “had outdone all music work in this kind ever before printed in this nation; and was indeed the only fit person to do the like, he only having those new materials, the like to which was never had made before in England.” They might have been more distinct, and more consistent;—five being common English characters, thecmore resembling the third letter in the Greek alphabet than any thing else, thebreversed serving forg, and thedin like manner fore.

The characters for the time of notes he compares to money, as supposing that most people would be ready enough to count them the better for that. Considering therefore the semi-breve as a groat, the minim becomes two pence, the crotchet a penny, the quaver a half-penny, and the semi-quaver a farthing. Trouble not yourself for the demi-quaver, he says, till you have a quick hand, it being half a semi-quaver.

But besides these, there are marks in his notation for the fifteen graces which may be used upon the lute, though few or none used them all. They are the Shake, the Beat, the Back-fall, the Half-fall, the Whole-fall, the Elevation, the Single Relish, the Double Relish, the Slur, the Slide, the Spinger, the Sting, the Tutt, the Pause and the Soft and Loud Play, “which is as great and good a grace as any other whatever.”

“Some,” says Master Mace, “there are, and many I have met with, who have such a natural agility in their nerves, and aptitude to that performance, that before they could do any thing else to purpose, they would make a shake rarely well. And some again can scarcely ever gain a good shake, by reason of the unaptness of their nerves to that action, but yet otherwise come to play very well. I, for my own part, have had occasion to break both my arms; by reason of which, I cannot make the nerve-shake well, nor strong; yet by a certain motion of my arm, I have gained such a contentive shake, that sometimes my scholars will ask me, how they shall do to get the like? I have then no better answer for them, than to tell them, they must first break their arm, as I have done; and so possibly after that, by practice, they may get my manner of Shake.”

Rules are given for all these graces, but observe he says “that whatever your grace be, you must in your farewell express the true note perfectly, or else your pretended grace, will prove a disgrace.”

“The Spinger is a grace very neat and curious, for some sort of notes, and is done thus: After you have hit your note, you must just as you intend to part with it, dab one of your rest fingers lightly upon the same string, a fret or two frets below, (according to the air,) as if you did intend to stop the string, in that place, yet so gently, that you do not cause the string to sound, in that stop, so dab'd; but only so that it may suddenly take away that sound which you last struck, yet give some small tincture of a new note, but not distinctly to be heard as a note; which grace, if well done and properly is very taking and pleasant.”

The Sting is “another very neat and pretty grace,” it makes the sound seem to swell with pretty unexpected humour, and gives much contentment upon cases.

The Tut is easily done, and always with the right hand. “When you would perform this grace, it is but to strike your letter which you intend shall be so graced, with one of your fingers, and immediately clap on your next striking finger upon the string which you struck; in which doing, you suddenly take away the sound of the letter; and if you do it clearly, it will seem to speak the word,Tut, so plainly, as if it were a living creature, speakable!”

While however the pupil was intent upon exhibiting these graces, the zealous master exhorted him not to be unmindful of his own, but to regard his postures, for a good posture is comely, creditable and praiseworthy, and moreover advantageous as to good performance. “Set yourself down against a table, in as becoming a posture, as you would choose to do for your best reputation. Sit upright and straight; then take up your lute, and lay the body of it in your lap across. Let the lower part of it lie upon your right thigh, the head erected against your left shoulder and ear; lay your left hand down upon the table, and your right arm over the lute, so that you may set your little finger down upon the belly of the lute, just under the bridge, against the treble, or second string: and then keep your lute stiff, and strongly set with its lower edge against the table-edge; and so, leaning your breast something hard against its ribs, cause it to stand steady and strong, so that a bystander cannot easily draw it from your breast, table, and arm. This is the most becoming, steady and beneficial posture.”

“Your left hand thus upon the table, your lute firmly fixed, yourself and it in your true postures,—bring up your left hand from the table, bended, just like the balance of a hook, all excepting your thumb, which must stand straight and span'd out; your fingers also, all divided out from the other in an equal and handsome order; and in this posture, place your thumb under the neck of the lute, a little above the fret, just in the midst of the breadth of the neck; all your four-fingers in this posture, being held close over the strings on the other side, so that each finger may be in a readiness to stop down upon any fret. And now in this lively and exact posture, I would have your posture drawn, which is the most becoming posture I can direct unto for a lutanist.”

“Know that an old lute is better than a new one.” Old instruments indeed, are found by experience to be far the best, the reasons for which Master Mace could no further dive into than to say, he apprehended, “that by extreme age, the wood and those other adjuncts, glue, parchment, paper, linings of cloth, (as some used) but above all the varnish, are by time very much dried, limped, made gentle, rarified, or to say better, even airified; so that that stiffness, stubbornness, orclunguinesswhich is natural to such bodies, are so debilitated and made pliable, that the pores of the wood, have a more free liberty to move, stir or secretly vibrate; by which means the air (which is the life of all things both animate and inanimate) has a more free and easy recourse to pass and repass, &c. Whether I have hit upon the right cause, I know not, but sure I am that age adds goodness to instruments.”

The Venice lutes were commonly good; and the most esteemed maker was Laux Malles, whose name was always written in text letters. Mace had seen two of his lutes, “pitiful, old, battered, cracked things;” yet for one of these, which Mr. Gootiere, the famous lutanist in his time showed him, the King paid an hundred pounds. The other belonged to Mr. Edward Jones, one of Gootiere's scholars; and he relates this “true story” of it; that a merchant bargained with the owner to take it with him in his travels, on trial; if he liked it, he was on his return to give an hundred pounds for it; otherwise he was to return it safe, and pay twenty pounds “for his experience and use of it.”—He had often seen lutes of three or four pounds a piece “more illustrious and taking to a common eye.”

The best shape was the Pearl mould, both for sound and comeliness, and convenience in holding. The best wood for the ribs was what he calls air-wood, this was absolutely the best; English maple next. There were very good ones however of plum, pear, yew, rosemary-air, and ash. Ebony and ivory, though most costly and taking to a common eye were the worst. For the belly the finest grained wood was required, free from knots or obstructions; cypress was very good, but the best was called Cullen's-cliff, being no other than the finest sort of fir, and the choicest part of that fir. To try whether the bars within, to strengthen and keep it straight and tight, were all fast, you were gently to knock the belly all along, round about, and then in the midst, with one of your knuckles; “if any thing be either loose in it, or about it, you may easily perceive it, by a little fuzzing or hizzing; but if all be sound, you shall hear nothing but a tight plump and twanking knock.”

Among the aspersions against the lute which Master Mace indignantly repelled, one was that it cost as much in keeping as a horse. “I do confess,” said he, “that those who will be prodigal and extraordinary curious, may spend as much as may maintain two or three horses, and men to ride upon them too if they please. But he never charged more than ten shillings for first stringing one, and five shillings a quarter for maintaining it with strings.”

The strings were of three sorts, minikins, Venice Catlins, and Lyons, for the basses; but the very best for the basses were called Pistoy Basses; these, which were smooth and well-twisted strings, but hard to come by, he supposes to be none others than thick Venice Catlins, and commonly dyed of a deep dark red. The red strings however were commonly rotten, so were the yellow, the green sometimes very good; the clear blue the best. But good strings might be spoilt in a quarter of an hour, if they were exposed to any wet, or moist air. Therefore they were to be bound close together, and wrapt closely up either in an oiled paper, a bladder, or a piece of sere cloth, “such as often comes over with them,” and then to be kept in some close box, or cupboard, but not amongst linen (for that gives moisture,) and in a room where is usually a fire. And when at any time you open them for your use, take heed they lie not too long open, nor in a dark window, nor moist place; for moisture is the worst enemy to your strings.

“How to choose and find a true string, which is the most curious piece of skill in stringing, is both a pretty curiosity to do, and also necessary. First, draw out a length, or more; then take the end, and measure the length it must be of, within an inch or two, (for it will stretch so much at least in the winding up,) and hold that length in both hands, extended to reasonable stiffness: then, with one of your fingers strike it; giving it so much liberty in slackness as you may see it vibrate, or open itself. If it be true, it will appear to the eye, just as if they were two strings; but if it shows more than two, it is false, and will sound unpleasantly upon your instrument, nor will it ever be well in tune, either stopt or open, but snarl.” Sir John Hawkins observes that this direction is given by Adrian Le Roy in his instructions for the lute, and is adopted both by Mersennus and Kircher. Indeed this experiment is the only known test of a true string, and for that reason is practised by such as are curious at this day.

In his directions for playing, Master Mace says, “take notice that you strike not your strings with your nails, as some do, who maintain it the best way of play; but I do not; and for this reason; because the nail cannot draw so sweet a sound from the lute as the nibble end of the flesh can do. I confess in a concert it might do well enough, where the mellowness, (which is the most excellent satisfaction from a lute) is lost in the crowd; but alone, I could never receive so good content from the nail as from the flesh.”

Mace considered it to be absolutely necessary that all persons who kept lutes should know how to repair them; for he had known a lute “sent fifty or sixty miles to be mended of a very small mischance, (scarce worth twelve pence for the mending) which besides the trouble and cost of carriage, had been broken all to pieces in the return, and so farewell lute and all the cost.” One of the necessary tools for this work is “a little working knife, such as are most commonly made of pieces of broken good blades, fastened into a pretty thick haft of wood or bone, leaving the blade out about two or three inches;” “grind it down upon the back,” he says, “to a sharp point, and set to a good edge; it will serve you for many good uses, either in cutting, carving, making pins, &c.”

His directions for this work are exceedingly minute; but when the lute was in order, it was of no slight importance to keep it so, and for this also he offers some choice observations. “You shall do well, ever when you lay it by in the day-time, to put it into a bed that is constantly used, between the rug and blanket, but never between the sheets, because they may be moist.” “This is the most absolute and best place to keep it in always.” “There are many great commodities in so doing; it will save your strings from breaking, it will keep your lute in good order, so that you shall have but small trouble in tuning it; it will sound more brisk and lively, and give you pleasure in the very handling of it; if you have any occasion extraordinary to set up your lute at a higher pitch, you may do it safely, which otherwise you cannot so well do, without danger to your instrument and strings: it will be a great safety to your instrument, in keeping it from decay, it will prevent much trouble in keeping the bars from flying loose and the belly from sinking: and these six conveniences considered all together, must needs create a seventh, which is, that lute-playing must certainly be very much facilitated, and made more delightful thereby. Only no person must be so inconsiderate as to tumble down upon the bed whilst the lute is there, for I have known, said he, several good lutes spoilt with such a trick.”

I will not say of the reader, who after the foregoing specimens of Music's Monument has no liking for Master Mace and his book that he

Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoil,

but I cannot but suspect that he has no taste for caviare, dislikes laver, would as willingly drink new hock as old, and more willingly the base compound which passes for champagne, than either. Nay I could even suspect that he does not love those “three things which persons loving, love what they ought,—the whistling of the wind, the dashing of the waves, and the rolling of thunder:” and that he comes under the commination of this other triad, “let no one love such as dislike the scent of cloves, the taste of milk and the song of birds.” My Welsh friends shall have the pleasure of reading these true sayings, in their own ancient, venerable and rich language.

Tri dyn o garu tri pheth à garant à ddylaint; gorddyan y gwgnt, boran y tònau, ac angerdd y daran.

Tri pheth ma chared neb a 'u hanghara: rhogleu y meillion, blâs llaeth, a chân adar.

A MUSIC LESSON FROM MASTER THOMAS MACE TO BE PLAYED BY LADY FAIR:—A STORY, THAN WHICH THERE IS NONE PRETTIER IN THE HISTORY OF MUSIC.

What shall I say? Or shall I say no more?I must go on! I'm brim-full, running o'er.But yet I'll hold, because I judge ye wise;And few words unto such may well suffice.But much—much more than this I could declare;Yet for some certain reasons I'll forbear.But less than this I could not say; because,If saying less, I should neglect my cause,For 'tis the Doctor's cause I plead so strong for,And 'tis his cause compleated that I long for,And 'tis true doctrine certainly I preach,And 'tis that doctrine every priest should teach.THOMASMACE, TO ALL DIVINE READERS.

O Lady fair, before we say,

Now cease my lute; this is the lastLabour that thou and I shall waste,And ended is that we begun;My lute be still, for I have done:1

before we say this, O Lady fair, play I pray you the following lesson by good Master Mace. It will put you in tune for the story “not impertinent” concerning it, which he thought fit to relate, although, he said, many might chuse to smile at it. You may thank Sir John Hawkins for having rendered it from tablature into the characters of musical notation.

musical score

1SIRTHOMASWYAT.

“This Lesson,” says Master Mace, “I call my Mistress, and I shall not think it impertinent to detain you here a little longer than ordinary in speaking something of it, the occasion of it, and why I give it that name. And I doubt not, but the relation I shall give may conduce to your advantage in several respects, but chiefly in respect of Invention.

“You must first know, That it is a lesson, though old; yet I never knew it disrelished by any, nor is there any one lesson in this Book of that age, as it is; yet I do esteem it (in its kind) with the best Lesson in the Book, for several good reasons, which I shall here set down.

“It is, this very winter, just forty years since I made it—and yet it is new, because all like it,—and then when I was past being a suitor to my best beloved, dearest, and sweetest living Mistress, but not married, yet contriving the best, and readiest way towards it; And thus it was,

“That very night, in which I was thus agitated in my mind concerning her, my living Mistress,—she being in Yorkshire, and myself at Cambridge, close shut up in my chamber, still and quiet, about ten or eleven o'clock at night, musing and writing letters to her, her Mother, and some other Friends, in summing up and determining the whole matter concerning our Marriage. You may conceive I might have very intent thoughts all that time, and might meet with some difficulties, for as yet I had not gained her Mother's consent,—so that in my writings I was sometimes put to my studyings. At which times, my Lute lying upon my table, I sometimes took it up, and walked about my chamber, letting my fancy drive which way it would, (for I studied nothing, at that time, as to Music,)—yet my secret genius or fancy, prompted my fingers, do what I could, into this very humour. So that every time I walked, and took up my Lute, in the interim, betwixt writing and studying, this Air would needs offer itself unto me continually; insomuch that, at the last, (liking it well, and lest it should be lost,) I took paper and set it down, taking no further notice of it at that time. But afterwards it passed abroad for a very pleasant and delightful Air amongst all. Yet I gave it no name till a long time after, nor taking more notice of it, in any particular kind, than of any other my Composures of that nature.

“But after I was married, and had brought my wife home to Cambridge, it so fell out that one rainy morning I stay'd within, and in my chamber my wife and I were all alone, she intent upon her needlework, and I playing upon my Lute, at the table by her. She sat very still and quiet, listening to all I played without a word a long time, till at last, I hapned to play this lesson; which, so soon as I had once played, she earnestly desired me to play it again, ‘for,’ said she, ‘That shall be called my Lesson.’

“From which words, so spoken, with emphasis and accent, it presently came into my remembrance, the time when, and the occasion of its being produced, and I returned her this answer, viz. That it may very properly be called your Lesson, for when I composed it you were wholly in my fancy, and the chief object and ruler of my thoughts; telling her how, and when it was made. And therefore, ever after, I thus called it MYMISTRESS, and most of my scholars since call it MRS. MACE, to this day.

“Thus I have detained you (I hope not too long,) with this short relation; nor should I have been so seemingly vain, as to have inserted it, but that I have an intended purpose by it, to give some advantage to the reader, and doubt not but to do it to those who will rightly consider what here I shall further set down concerning it.

“Now in reference to the occasion of it, &c. It is worth taking notice, That there are times and particular seasons, in which the ablest Master of his Art, shall not be able to command his Invention or produce things so to his content or liking, as he shall at other times; but he shall be (as it were,) stupid, dull, and shut up, as to any neat, spruce, or curious Invention.

“But again, at other times, he will have Inventions come flowing in upon him, with so much ease and freedom, that his greatest trouble will be to retain, remember, or set them down, in good order.

“Yet more particularly, as to the occasion of this Lesson, I would have you take notice, that as it was at such a time, when I was wholly and intimately possessed with the true and perfect idea of my living Mistress, who was at that time, lovely, fair, comely, sweet, debonair, uniformly-neat, and every way compleat; how could, possibly, my fancy run upon anything at that time, but upon the very simile, form, or likeness, of the same substantial thing.

“And that this Lesson doth represent, and shadow forth such a true relation, as here I have made, I desire you to take notice of it, in every particular; which I assure myself, may be of benefit to any, who shall observe it well.

“First, therefore, observe the two first Bars of it, which will give you the Fugue; which Fugue is maintained quite through the whole lesson.

“Secondly, observe the Form, and Shape of the whole lesson, which consists of two uniform, and equal strains; both strains having the same number of Bars.

“Thirdly, observe the humour of it; which you may perceive (by the marks and directions) is not common.

“These three terms, or things, ought to be considered in all compositions, and performances of this nature, viz. Ayres, or the like.

“The Fugue is lively, ayrey, neat, curious, and sweet, like my Mistress.

“The Form is uniform, comely, substantial, grave, and lovely, like my Mistress.

“The Humour is singularly spruce, amiable, pleasant, obliging, and innocent, like my Mistress.

“This relation to some may seem odd, strange, humorous, and impertinent; but to others (I presume) it may be intelligible and useful; in that I know, by good experience, that in Music, all these significations, (and vastly many more,) may, by an experienced and understanding Artist, be clearly, and most significantly expressed; yea, even as by language itself, if not much more effectually. And also, in that I know, that as a person is affected or disposed in his temper, or humour, by reason of what object of his mind soever, he shall at that time produce matter, (if he be put to it,) answerable to that temper, disposition, or humour, in which he is.

“Therefore I would give this as a caveat, or caution, to any, who do attempt to exercise their fancies in such matters of Invention, that they observe times, and seasons, and never force themselves to anything, when they perceive an indisposition; but wait for a fitter, and more hopeful season, for what comes most compleatly, comes most familiarly, naturally, and easily, without pumping for, as we use to say.

“Strive therefore to be in a good, cheerful, and pleasant humour always when you would compose or invent, and then, such will your productions be; or, to say better, chuse for your time of Study, and Invention, if you may, that time wherein you are so disposed, as I have declared. And doubtless, as it is in the study and productions of Music, so must it needs be in all other studies, where the use and exercise of fancy is requirable.

“I will therefore, take a little more pains than ordinary, to give such directions, as you shall no ways wrong, or injure my Mistress, but do her all the right you can, according to her true deserts.

“First, therefore, observe to playsoft, andloud, as you see it marked quite through the Lesson.

“Secondly, usethat Grace, which I call theSting, where you see it set, and theSpingerafter it.

“And then, in the last four strains, observe theSlides, andSlurs, and you cannot fail to know myMistress's Humour, provided you keeptrue time, which you must be extremely careful to do in all lessons: FORTIME IS THE ONE HALF OFMUSIC.

“And now, I hope I shall not be very hard put to it, to obtain my pardon for all this trouble I have thus put you to, in the exercise of your patience; especially from those, who are so ingenious and good-natured, as to prize, and value, such singular and choice endowments, as I have here made mention of in so absolute and compleat a subject.”

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